Place For Us
by fizzingwhizbees7
Summary: This is my take on the story of Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta. Starts at Annie's Games, and will most likely continue until the events in Mockingjay. The beautifully tragic tale of the golden boy and his one true love.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! This is my first ever Hunger Games fanfiction...I really can't help myself when it comes to this pairing! I love Finnick and Annie so much, and I hope that you enjoy reading my take on their story. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined - I'd love to hear thoughts about the story and my writing! Thank you! :)**

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Chapter One

My first encounter with the famous Finnick Odair had not gone exactly as I had expected it to go.

I had been thirteen years old then, and my hair had been shorter, more wild. I could remember the whole thing as if it had just happened yesterday. I had been making my way through District Four's market, my eyes wide and my mouth watering at all the food that my greedy hands could not afford. It had been the first time I had visited the market alone, because usually I would go with my mother to help her carry things. On that day, however, my mother had been far too busy tending to my baby brother to be able to get food for us for the next week, so I had volunteered to go in her place. I thought I knew the market well enough to navigate it myself. Though I am sure my mother had quite a few reservations about letting me go alone, she relented and sent me off with enough coins to get what we needed.

Of course, the freedom of not having my meticulous mother's eyes on me while I strolled went to my head. I had totally put off buying the food I had been instructed to purchase to instead gaze lustfully at the luxuries my family could not afford. People tend to forget that while District Four is considered one of the wealthier districts in Panem, not all of its citizens are loaded with money. My eyes were stuck on a roll of lovely silk that was dyed sea foam green. I hadn't been able to resist, my small hand inching forward so my fingertips could brush across the fine fabric, to see if the stories of it feeling smoother than water were true.

A large, sweaty hand grabbed my wrist at that moment, and I had gasped, lurching backwards. In front of my face had been a rather large man with a wild, tangled beard and a scar across his left eye. His one good eye was dark and beady, and it stared at me, unblinking. "What do we have here?" he had growled, yanking me forward so the proximity between the two of us was almost uncomfortable. I could still smell how rank his breath was when I recalled this memory, like the smell of rotten fish. He leered at me, a smile creeping onto his face. His teeth had been a dull yellow. "Little young to be out on your own, aren't you, missy?"

"I'm thirteen," I had squeaked, trying to pull my skinny wrist out of his grasp, but he wasn't budging.

The man chuckled darkly. "Like I said, a little young to be out on your own." He released my wrist then, and I had been prepared to make a run for it, but then he leaned back and placed his hand on the roll of silk, his smile growing wider. "I'm assuming since you were so eager to grab this here fabric that you're interested in purchasing some of it."

My heart had pounded so loud in my chest that I was sure everyone in the market could hear it. "Oh no, sir, I just –"

"Then were you planning on stealing it, little girl?" He leaned forward again, though this time he had not been as close as he was previously. "They have rules about stealing, you know."

"I'm aware," I had stammered, taking a step back. "I wasn't stealing, though."

The man's smile turned sinister. "It's my word against a little girl's." I had known I was in a spot of trouble then. Stealing in District Four could easily be punishable by death, but that wasn't even the worst sentence the culprit could receive. Death was quick; torture was not. I had witnessed many public floggings in the square even at my young age, and the screams of those caught stealing before me rang in my ears. "So, girl," the man had continued, waggling his eyebrows. "I'll cut you a break, seeing as you are only – thirteen, did you say? How about you just give me all the money you have on you and I'll forget that you were going to steal from me, yeah?"

Tears had been stinging my eyes at this point. It wasn't fair, not even remotely, but there wasn't anything I could do. A lot of these people who worked at the market made a game out of conning people, and I had been aware at that moment that I was one of many victims. But no, my tears had not been because I was upset that I had fallen for the trap – it was because the disappointed look my mother would give me when I arrived home would be too much for me to bear.

I had been fully ready to hand over the money then, knowing that if I hadn't the man would do something much worse than take a few coins from me. The coins were burning a hole through the pocket my mother had carefully sewn on to the side of my dress, and as I had stuck my hand in to grab them, trying really hard not to cry in front of the man, a young man appeared at my side.

"Is there a problem here, my good sir?" the young man asked, his voice smooth and his every word dripping with sensuality. I had stared at the man, my eyes widened to their full extent. The young man was tall, about a full head taller than me, and his skin was tanned from obviously spending a lot of time in the sun. His hair was bronze and I can distinctly remember the way it had been ruffled, as if blown by the wind. But it was his eyes that got me. They were green like the waves in the sea before they crashed on shore. They were absolutely incredible. Of course I had recognized who this young man was immediately.

"Finnick Odair!" the man had gasped, his beady eyes shining with admiration. The man bowed graciously, as if forgetting that he was trying to pool money off of me. "Our district's most beloved victor! What can I do for you today?"

Finnick Odair's lovely eyes had been narrowed at the man. "I was just wondering what you was going on with you and Miss – what's your name, sweetheart?"

My thirteen year old brain had felt dizzy with glee, knowing that there were so many girls who would kill to be called sweetheart by Finnick Odair. "Annie," I had said quietly, not trusting myself to meet those green eyes as I told him.

"Annie." The sound of my name on his lips had been sweet, though I tried to push that thought to the back of my mind. Finnick Odair grinned at the man, though I could tell he found nothing about the situation amusing. "You know, sir, it isn't very kind to bully little girls into giving you money."

The vendor man's face had turned wan, and I had tried to hide a smile behind my hand as Finnick Odair continued. "In fact," the victor said, leaning forward with his eyes glittering with mischief at the man, "if someone were to tell the Peacekeepers that you're at it again – because trust me, this isn't the first time I've seen you pull a stunt like this – I'm almost positive that you'd be punished. Severely."

The man gulped. "O-of course," the man had stuttered, putting his head down and beginning to busy himself with the other products he was selling at his booth. "I, uh, must get back to work now. Very busy, with, ah, something."

And Finnick Odair had simply winked at the man before turning to me crouching down a bit so he was at my eye level. He was close enough that our breath was able to mingle in the air separating us. Finnick Odair's eyes had been unwavering as he studied my face. "Are you alright, Annie?" he asked in a quiet voice, and even though there had been nothing sexual about the question, I had felt like he was asking to take me right there in the middle of the market. I discovered that I was unable to form words, because I was so terribly embarrassed that I had to be rescued from my predicament. So I nodded.

Finnick Odair had given me one last, dazzling smile before standing up to his full height again, looking more handsome than I had ever seen him in the late afternoon sunlight. He had warned me to be cautious of the other vendors and swaggered off, causing heads to turn in his direction as he passed.

The next part of my little shopping trip was somewhat of a blur, because I had been trying to buy everything I needed as quickly as possible so I would get back home before my mom needed my help to make dinner.

I never mentioned what had happened in the market to anyone. I could have probably sold my story of meeting Finnick Odair to the ravenous media people from the Capitol who seemed to scavenge District Four for a sign of his presence. I could have made millions. But I didn't.

A few days after the incident in the market, there had been a loud knock on the door of my home. My mother busy calming my brother, I ran to the door, curious. As I flung the door open, wondering who on Earth it could be, I had quickly realized that no one was standing outside. Instead, a large roll of fabric was leaning against the pillar that held up the roof over the front step. I gasped.

It hadn't just been any fabric. It was _the_ fabric, as in the sea foam green silk that I had seen at the market, the silk that had gotten me in trouble in the first place. Even as I had stared at it, my fingers twitched, longing to smooth themselves over the delicacy's surface. I was so stunned that I stood there for a moment, just staring at it. Of course, there was no way this fabric could have possibly sprouted limbs and waltzed its way over to my house…so who had left it here?

As I scanned the roll, I noticed a small white card sticking out from under one of the silk's folds. I reached for it, allowing my eagerness to take control. As I had read the words printed on the card in small, turquoise font, my face grew hot. Before I slipped back inside my house, I had gathered the roll of fabric up into my arms, its smooth surface rubbing against the bare skin of my arms. As I closed my front door behind me with my foot, calling to my mother to see the gift that we had received, the words from the note had burned into my mind. They still do, years later.

_To Annie: I see why you liked this so much. It matches your eyes. –F. O._

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When I woke up, a sense of dread flooded over me like a tidal wave.

I knew very well what today was. Every child in District 4 was aware of the fact that today could be the day it is confirmed they have another year to live. But it could also be the less favorable outcome – as I like to call it, the beginning of the end.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep as if today wasn't one of the worst days of the entire year. Instead, beneath my eyelids I visualized the stage in the district square, where Daphnie Pyrmont, our district's eccentric escort, would call out the names of the tributes destined to compete in the 70th annual Hunger Games. And right up there beside her would be the previous victors, most likely with Finnick Odair front and center, his blinding white smile causing shrieks from a fair amount of the young women present.

The incident in the market happened four years ago. I doubted that Finnick Odair even remembered my name now, being as famous and as popular as he is. I was just a simple little girl in the market that day, and he was helping me out a bit. I'm sure I wasn't the first damsel in distress he rescued, and lavished with an expensive gift. He has girlfriends in the Capitol for stuff like that.

It annoyed me how easily I blushed at the thought of him. It wasn't my fault that he was the most handsome thing I had ever laid eyes on.

My thoughts quickly drifted from Finnick back to the stage, and then flickered to some of the more gruesome moments from previous Games. I opened my eyes, not wanting to relive the horrors I had seen upon my television.

I slid out of my bed as slowly as possible, as if that would make time go slower. My bedroom floor was freezing, and it felt as though I was walking across a sheet of ice as I made my way out of my room.

My mother sat alone at our kitchen table, gripping her mug of tea so tight that her knuckles were turning white. The steam from her drink was swirling in front of her face, but her eyes were emotionless, staring at something on the table that I couldn't see. As I slid into the chair across from her, she looked up, her eyes a familiar faint green color. She forced a smile as I reached into our fruit bowl, grabbing the last pear. I bit into the fruit, the sweetness bursting over my taste buds as some of its juices flowed down my chin. "Big day," she remarked in her usual, quiet voice, but today it sounded brittle, as if it might break. I wasn't all that worried – my mother tended to get this way every year on reaping day. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if other people's mothers did too.

I nodded, not quite sure how to respond. How does one respond to the fact that today could be one of their last? How was _any_ child supposed to come to terms with the idea of being slaughtered on nation-wide television?

My mother's pinched smile faltered slightly as she watched me eat. "Do you want me to get your dress for you?" she whispered, removing her gaze from my face and staring into her mug again, her eyes getting that vacant glazed-over look that was more than familiar to me.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and placing the core of the pear down on the table, I began to get up out of my chair. "You don't have to –"

"_Annie_!" The sound of small feet pounding into the wooden floor filled the kitchen, and a small figure with wild, dark brown curls hurdled into me. I felt small, skinny arms wrap themselves around my middle. Reef looked up at me with big, brown eyes –unusual coloring, for District Four. My dad's eyes had been the same color, and framed by lashes just as thick. Seeing his eyes reflected in my little brother made my heart hurt for a moment, because all I could picture was my father's drowned body getting pulled out of ocean, his limbs bent at unnatural angles and his lovely eyes staring at a sky he couldn't see.

I smiled at Reef and ruffled his unruly hair. He giggled, and his childlike innocence made me forget for a moment that it was reaping day. In my mind, it was any normal day. I would walk to the beach with Reef, we'd collect some shells, and he'd stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tried to follow my nimble fingers as they assembled shell bracelets. I'd make us lunch – left over rolls from the night before with thin slices of fresh game from the market, Reef's favorite – and I'd listen to his stories of how life was as a five year old, an age where things were simpler.

An age where you wouldn't wake up from nightmares about being violently thrown into the arena.

I heard my mother cough from somewhere in front of me and I shook my head a little, trying to bring myself back to the bleak reality of the day. When I was preoccupied with Reef, she had moved over to the small wardrobe that was stationed near our front door. The mahogany door was opened a crack and I could see the long, flowing skirt of my reaping day dress peeking through. I wished that my mother would stop smiling at me in that pinched way of hers.

I bent down a little to press a kiss to Reef's forehead and moved over to the wardrobe, tracing my finger over the design in the wood, not meeting my mother's eyes. "The reaping isn't until later, you know," I told her, my tone soft.

"I know. I just thought….the dress is so pretty, I would like to see you in it."

I knew I could argue that she'd see enough of me in it later, but I didn't. My mother's eyes were pleading with me, as if my modeling of the dress now would do something to make her less broken, less nervous. I reached into the wardrobe and pulled it out, holding the dress in my arms as carefully as one could so I wouldn't crease it.

Reef shot me a toothy grin from across the room. "Annie's going to be pretty like a mermaid today."

I attempted to return the smile. "I guess you could say that, Reef." After all, the Capitol loves their food to look divine before they play with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**So...sorry about how long it took to post this chapter! School and life kind of got in the way, and I had a little writer's block...but now I'm back and ready to write up a storm! Thank you for the lovely reviews on the last chapter, they really made me smile. I don't _love_ this chapter, but I'm glad it's written because it was a pain to write. I promise later chapters will be better, because we're just getting started. Okay, I'm rambling. Enjoy and please review! :)**

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Chapter Two

My reaping dress was one of great beauty, something that I wouldn't even think about wearing unless the occasion was as celebrated as reaping day – even though I wouldn't exactly call instituting fear within a district "celebrating". The dress was simple, with short sleeves and a tight bodice that almost seemed to accentuate my barely-there chest. The bottom part of the dress was stitched so that it created a waistline just above my actual waist, and the material flowed out to about an inch above my knees. This fake waistline trick made my legs look longer than usual, which was somewhat satisfying considering that fact that I was one of the shortest people I know. The real beauty of the dress came from the material it was made out of, a sea-foam green silk that I've been told brought out my eyes. In that dress, I could be the poster child for reaping day fashion – just enough style and simplicity to make it suitable for today's affairs. I was lucky my mother was so talented with a needle.

I stared at myself in the cracked mirror above the leaky sink in the tiny bathroom that our home had. My calloused fingers wrestled with my hair to make it look somewhat suitable. I considered my options, my pale green eyes studying my unruly brown curls that I usually paid no attention to. It was so much easier to allow my curls to run wild, but my mother wouldn't let me. To her, I would look much more presentable with my hair pulled back. After I eventually managed to twist my hair into a neat bun at the nape of my neck, I moved from the bathroom to the small kitchen, where a clock hung on the wall. According to the clock, it was just about time to make our way to the district square. Bile rose in my throat at the thought.

It was far too nice of a day to spend wondering who would fall under the Capitol's heavy hand this year. The sky was as blue as the robin's eggs I had found last summer in an abandoned nest, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. In the distance, the ocean shimmered as if someone had poured glitter into the waves. I had to push back the urge that pulsed through me to run to it, to the water's edge where I could stand and be free, if only for a moment. I would be brought back to reality when I realized that I'd never truly be free as long as I lived in Panem.

Reef's small hand clutched mine as we made our way down our front steps, my mother in tow. She herself looked beautiful, with her pale hair pulled off her face in a delicate twist and her eyes reflecting the afternoon sunlight. Her face, however, held a somber expression that made me wish that my father was still here. She would be stronger if she still had him to lean on, I was sure. I wished I had my father's strength. Maybe then I would be able to alleviate my mother's sorrow.

It was frightening how silent it was as we walked to the district square. There were people around us, sure, but no one felt the need to speak. I thought that the silence said enough for the thoughts of our neighbors. We lived in the part of District Four that didn't glorify the games or produce Career tributes. There were a few people who thought we were all insane for not enjoying the games as much as they did, but it didn't really bother me. Let those people volunteer. I wasn't exactly the type to throw myself into the face of death.

I heard someone call my name, and I turned around. A huge smile filled my entire face, despite the nausea in my stomach. A girl with a long, dark ponytail waved at me from a distance away, her face smiling. I felt Reef's hand being pulled out my own, and I looked over to see my mother taking his little body into her arms. She gave me one of her pinched smiles, though there was the hint of warmth in her eyes. "Go talk to your friend," she told me. "I'll see you soon."

_Soon_. The word was delicious to my ears. Soon, the reaping would be over and we could all return home and wait for the 70th Hunger Games to begin. The confidence in my mother's voice about me being able to return home surged through me now. She had a valid point. I hadn't had to take out tesserae this year, miraculously, because my mother's embroidery business had flourished over the past year. I had been so sure that this year would be the year I would have to put my name in the drawing extra times. Thankfully, my name was only in that big glass bowl six times, which was less than a few people I knew. The odds were somewhat in my favor.

I wrapped my arms around Coral, and her tinkling laugh rang in my ear. When I pulled away, I looked her in her blue eyes and noticed they were glistening with tears. "What's wrong?" I demanded, linking my arm with hers as we continued to walk towards the district square, staying some distance behind the somber parade that was walking before us. Coral shook her head, giving me watery smile.

"Nothing, why would you think that anything could be wrong?" Coral sighed when she realized that I wasn't buying this act she was trying to pull. Her eyes were sad as she continued to talk to me in a hushed whisper. "My father upset President Snow last week."

"What?!" I exclaimed, and then lowered my voice so we wouldn't attract attention. We lingered near the back of the crowd now and slowed down a bit so we could talk more. "How?"

Coral's lip trembled. "He does business sometimes in the Capitol, as you probably know. He sells fish scales to the Capitol jewelry makers." Coral stared at her feet, which were adorned in run down white sandals. She seemed particularly interested in the color she had painted her toenails, which was a light seashell pink. It was hard to find nail polish in the districts, but with her father working in the Capitol she usually got rare luxuries that the rest of us could not. Seeing that we were almost at the square, I urged her to continue.

She took a deep breath. "He was negotiating prices with a Capitol person, who mentioned that he was to make a bracelet or something for President Snow to give to his granddaughter. The Capitol man told him that bracelets made of fish scales had extremely high prices – which seems silly to me, because they're just scales. But maybe the Capitol sees them as something rare and valuable, I don't know. Anyway, father…well, he told the man that he thinks that President Snow should stop spending money exuberantly on such pointless items and instead use it to help out the districts."

"He didn't," I gasped, a sour taste filling my mouth.

Coral closed her eyes and grabbed my hand, squeezing it so hard that it felt numb. "My father is a clever man, but he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes. Especially when he knows that whatever comes out of his mouth could get him in trouble. And I just know what he said got back to President Snow, because we received a letter a few days later from him, thanking my father for the scales." Coral's lip quivered again, and an overwhelming sense of sympathy throbbed through my body. The tears finally leaked down her cheeks as she whispered the last part of the tale. "Snow also mentioned that he heard about how strong my brother is getting."

I blinked at her, not fully understanding. "Why does he care about Dylan?" Dylan was thirteen, and was one of the nicest boys I've ever met. He was strong and had a handsome face, but he was ever so polite and humble. I thought a lot of the boys in the district could take a leaf out of his book once in a while. Dylan wasn't out there enough to have caught President Snow's eye by chance – Snow would have had to look pretty hard to find him.

Coral started sobbing in earnest now. "I think he's going to do something to Dylan," she said through her tears, burying her face into the crook of my neck and wrapping her skinny arms around me. I awkwardly smoothed down her hair, wishing I was better at dealing with this sort of thing. "He's only a little boy," Coral cried, and I hushed her so that no one near us would hear her. "I _can't_ let him get hurt."

"He won't Coral," I told her firmly, "Snow's vile, but not that much. He probably wrote that in the letter just to scare your family." Though I mostly said this for Coral's benefit, I was trying to convince myself that someone wouldn't be as evil as to punish a boy who had done nothing wrong. I could almost see President Snow's sinister smile in my mind, his teeth an off-white color and his gums a little darker red than gums should usually be. I shivered.

By the time we finally arrived at the square, Coral had stopped crying and had allowed her face to dry. The only way to tell that she had cried would be to look at her eyes, which were puffy and rimmed in red. We shuffled into the penned off area where the girls of District Four made to stand. I leaned forward slightly on my tip toes, eyeing the stage. A thick turquoise curtain hung as the backdrop, embellished with a large portrait of our district symbol. A few chairs were in place for our escort and victors to sit, and a thin microphone stand stood center stage, waiting to amplify Daphnie Pyrmont's voice to every corner of the district as she stuck her hand in the big glass bowl that decided our fate.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore my shaking hands. I decided to busy them with smoothing back a few loose curls that had escaped my bun. Coral stood next to me, staring at the sun, and muttering something under her breath that I recognized as a prayer.

"Hey, Cresta!" I turned my head over to the boys' area, where a boy with golden hair and dark blue eyes was smirking at me from where he stood with a few of his friends. His name was Kai, and he was eighteen and known for taking giggly girls behind the pier at the head of the ocean to have his way with them. He also happened to be one of the most egotistical people I knew. His eyes scanned me the way a homeless person eyed a half-eaten crab cake. "Nice dress!"

"Thanks," I replied coolly, adding a hint of finality to my tone so that he'd get the idea and drop the conversation. Naturally, Kai wouldn't have any of that.

"Seriously, Cresta you look…almost like a girl today. You even managed to tame that lion's mane of yours."

As his friends snickered, I kept my chin tilted up and turned my gaze towards the stage. I was struggling to keep up my collected composure. He was an idiot, everyone knew that, but his words stung. I knew if I looked back at him my eyes would betray me and he'd taunt me for acting like the foolish girl I tried so hard not be. The darker part of my mind wished for Kai's name to be pulled out of the boys' bowl this year so I could witness the raw fear in his eyes as he faced whatever dangers were in this year's Hunger Games.

I heard Kai's voice try to call to me again, probably to tease me some more, but it was drowned out as Daphnie Pyrmont finally took the stage and shouted a gleeful "HELLO!" into the microphone. The silence that fell over the square was of the kind that only seemed to be present in places like graveyards. Daphnie looked ridiculous, as usual. Her hair was a bright, acidic green and I was almost amused to see that she had died her eyebrows the same color. Her dress was vermillion and hugged her body so tightly that it looked ready to pop with the slightest movement. Her long, synthetic eyelashes glittered with jewels that also coated her arms like makeshift sleeves, and on her feet were boots as green as her hair that went all the way up to her knees. Why on Earth the Capitol people thought that _this_ was fashion was completely beyond me, but Daphnie's outfit helped distract me from the fact that in a few moments the tributes would be picked.

I drowned out her voice as she gave the same speech she always did before the reaping, and scanned the faces of those around me. Many of the girls by me, dolled up in their finest dresses, did their best not to let emotion take over and instead adopted impassive faces that made them look like the life was sucked out of them. There were the few, however, that looked at Daphnie with awe, their muscled arms taut and ready to fight. Career girls always looked silly in the dresses their mothers made them wear. It was so easy to spot a vicious killer even when adorned in tulle.

It really was a blessing to have Career tributes. Then the rest of those who did not want to risk their lives for the sake of eternal glory had nothing to worry about.

I tried to find my mother and Reef in the crowd, craning my neck until it hurt. I stopped my search when Daphnie began to introduce the previous victors from District Four. I felt my face grow hot as Finnick Odair's name boomed over the microphone, and he walked on stage with a blinding smile and windswept hair. He waved at the people of District Four flamboyantly, his charm seeping through the air. He took a seat on one of the empty chairs and I found myself admiring the way the white shirt he was wearing fit him, stretched tight over his chest, which I could imagine was strong and beautiful like every other part of him. I quickly turned my gaze to my feet. I could be such a girl sometimes that it was embarrassing.

"…And I just know this year's Hunger Games will have a victor from District Four!" Daphnie squealed, clapping her hands. The jewels on her arms twinkled like stars. She raised a suggestive green eyebrow and gestured to the girls' bowl beside her, which must have been brought out when I wasn't paying attention. "Might as well get started, I just _know_ you're all eager to begin! _Ladies_ first!"

Coral grabbed my wrist, and I nearly jumped out of my skin because I had forgotten that she was standing beside me. She gripped me so tightly that I was sure that I would have bruises later. Her gaze was steely, and her breaths came in shallow pants that made me realize she was trying to keep her heart beat steady. I wasn't quite sure why she was worrying, for she hadn't had to take out any tesserae either. She was probably thinking about the President Snow thing again, worrying about Dylan. I leaned into her, my lips at her ear, about to whisper a few comforting words…

"Annie Cresta."

The world went silent. I blinked, standing up straighter than I think I ever previously had. It took me a moment to register what was going on. Millions of eyes stared at me as I stood frozen to the spot, my feet seemingly glued to the ground. I couldn't breathe. It felt like my lungs were collapsing in on themselves, like the oxygen was getting sucked out of my body. There was a ringing in my head and I felt like I was going to pass out. Daphnie scanned the crowd with an eager expression on her face, using her hand as a visor and squinting her eyes. "C'mon up here, Annie Cresta! Come take your rightful place on this stage!"

Someone from behind me gave me a little push, and I stumbled forward, out of the penned off area for the girls of District Four. I began walking on shaky legs that felt like they were going to give at any moment. I glanced over my shoulder and met eyes with Coral, who looked like she had tears in her eyes once again but her face showed that she was so stunned that she couldn't even cry. Even Kai looked surprised, and the smirk on his face that I hated so much had disappeared. Everyone held their breath as I walked through the middle aisle between the two penned off areas up to the stage.

_Me_. I was going to be the female tribute from District Four this year. I couldn't wrap my mind around the very idea.

_I'll see you soon_, my mother had said. I doubted that by soon she meant see me on our old television screen, fighting to the death.

By some miracle I managed to climb the steps to the stage and was soon engulfed into a too-tight hug by Daphnie, who looked even more frightening up close. She smelled overwhelmingly like lavender and I almost gagged. As I pulled out of the hug, she gripped the microphone and said with a giggle, "Well here you have it, folks! Annie Cresta, your lovely female tribute!" She turned to me, her powdered face stretched grotesquely as she gave me a smile. "But before we let you have all the splendor of being a tribute, Annie Cresta, we must ask if there are any girls who don't want Annie here to take all the glory and want to volunteer to take her place!" She turned to face the entirety of District Four and I found myself turning as well, squinting for a moment as the sun blazed in my eyes.

I had nearly forgotten about volunteers as I had proceeded to the stage. Hope jumped into my heart. There were so many Career girls, waiting for this moment to volunteer, and I sighed in relief, knowing for certain that I wouldn't be going into the arena.

Except no one volunteered.

I stared at the girls' area, waiting for something, _anything_. The girls seemed frozen in time, staring at me with eyes that looked apologetic. I felt my heartbeat thrum to a stop. My chest felt hollow.

Daphnie smirked and winked at her audience – now _my_ audience as well. "Excellent! Congratulations to Annie – and now we move on to the boys!" Her thin, spindly fingers hovered over the boys' bowl, trying to decide which slip of paper to grab.

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, and I quickly reached a hand up to wipe it away. I wouldn't let anymore tears fall. I knew this was being televised, and I didn't want to seem weak before the real 'fun' of the games began. The sound of a small child crying flowed faintly through the air, coming from the back of the massive crowd of people. For some reason, I thought of Reef and I began to dig my nails into the palms of my hands, using the pain to distract me. If I thought about Reef know, I knew I would lose it.

Daphnie unfurled the paper in her grasp and read the name printed on it slowly, as if testing out the way the name sounded on her tongue. "Dylan Thames."

Suddenly my fears about myself were forgotten, and my jaw fell open as I whipped my heard towards the boys' area. No. Not Dylan too.

And there he was, walking up the path between the penned off areas, his dark hair gelled into place and his face the picture definition of calm. Coral's words about how she feared for Dylan's safety roared back into my ears, and I knew at that moment that Snow had set this up. Dylan's name was only in that bowl twice –_ twice_ – and his chances were so slim that the fact that he could be participating in the games hadn't even occurred to me. This was Snow's way of showing that he wasn't going to tolerate any disrespect from the citizens of Panem. He was going to use Dylan as an example to show what happens if you act up. Never before had I felt so much hatred towards President Snow than I did at that moment.

Dylan was soon at Daphnie's other side and he managed to smile at her when she told him how handsome he looked in his reaping clothes. I could see the fright in his eyes though, the fear of dying in the arena whizzing in his brain. His smile faded, however, when not a single boy volunteered for him, either. We were both stuck. I was debating doing something crazy, like shoving Daphnie off of the stage or smashing one of the glass bowls, when a large hand rested on my shoulder. Warm breath tickled my ear as a low voice murmured, "Go on now. Shake his hand."

I hadn't even realized that Dylan was waiting, hand outstretched, staring at me as if he desperately needed to take hold of my hand to make sure that this wasn't a nightmare and that he was actually awake. I turned my head slightly to see that it was Finnick Odair who had pulled me out of my thoughts. When he had moved to stand behind me, I couldn't be sure. His face was still close to mine, and his green eyes glimmered with a hint of amusement. I grasped Dylan's hand tightly, giving him a reassuring squeeze, but he couldn't make his eyes meet my own. The Panem anthem blasted from speakers and it was our cue to leave. Daphnie shouted a good-bye to the citizens of District Four as we were ushered off the stage. I took one last look at the crowd of people, my eyes wanting to take in the view before I was removed from my district. I wanted to remember the exact shade of the sky and the way the ocean gleamed so that before I died in the arena, I could think of home.

A hand found the small of my back as I walked down the stage steps and followed Daphnie towards the Justice Building. At first I thought it was a Peacekeeper, urging me to move faster, but it wasn't. It was Finnick Odair. He gave me a twisted smile.

"Pretty dress."

I didn't say anything to him as we continue to walk, but my face burned because I knew he remembered me as the stupid girl from the market. The stupid girl who was now going to be brutally slaughtered on live television right before his gorgeous eyes.


End file.
